to exonerate my blind eye
by staringatstars07
Summary: By proving that deviants were essentially people, Markus robbed CyberLife of their main source of income. But if they're going down, they're not going down alone.
1. You Called

The wide, tall and sterile expanse of CyberLife was eerily empty in the aftermath of Markus' demonstration and the RK800's mass conversion of their latest stock. It had cost the company millions, which was nothing compare to the plummet their stock had taken after the deviants attained public support.

The population wasn't interested in purchasing an android that could potentially become a person, and none of them wanted to become complicit in what had effectively become its own form of slavery, whatever the buyer's intent.

Without funding, without resources, the employees of CyberLife were swifly dismissed, its equipment redistributed to android clinics and other help centers for the newly awakened, or even for those from home lives that left them shaken, displaying symptoms of trauma and stress. Markus had even taken strides to establish support groups for those deviants, going so far as to reach out to human therapists sympathetic to their cause.

Those left behind bustled about, darting from room to room with purpose, though what that purpose may have been was anyone's guess.

Perhaps it had something to do with an assortment of custom parts and clothing delivered to the premise. The postman wasn't certain, but if asked, he would have guessed that it was the last package delivered to the facility. Most packages were heading outwards now, scattered to the wind, but this had been light-weight and stuck out in his memory due to the long expanse of inactivity before and after the delivery.

It bothered him in a way he couldn't explain - that lone package. But thinking about such things didn't get the mail delivered, so he put those thoughts aside, and carried on with his route.

* * *

Markus sat alone in what had been designated his 'official' office space. The high-backed leather chair he sat in fit him well, which was fortunate because hours of making phone calls, sending emails, and attending video conferences would have been torture without proper back support, even for an android. Sometimes, he found himself missing the days when he was Carl's caretaker, when the most that was demanded of him was to stand to the side and be silently appreciative as interviewers asked for insight regarding the renowned artist's thought process and method.

Carl was always so good at dealing with the press. Effortlessly charismatic and likeable. Even if he did have a tendency to grumble once the cameras were off him and the microphones pointed elsewhere.

Propping his head up on his desk with his gaze still glued to a computer screen showing a stream of trending data he'd long since given up trying to make sense of, he allowed himself a moment to revisit the memory of that last unveiling, smiling as Carl recounted the night with his usual curmudgeonly charm.

Through the shutters lowered over the window behind him, streams of the sun's last light filtered in, casting long shadows that crawled further up the walls with each passing second.

Markus didn't notice how dark the room had become until a figure silhouetted in shadow stretched across the entrance. Frowning, Markus called out uncertainly, "Josh? Is that you?" It was too much to hope for, really. The form was too wide in the shoulders and torso to be Josh.

There was a pistol hidden in the top drawer of his desk for occasions like this.

Surreptitiously slipping out the firearm, Markus rolled back his seat and stood in fluid motion that hopefully concealed the sound. "Who are you?"

Attempting to turn on the lamp proved fruitless. The intruder must have hacked the grid to block the current, perhaps even redirecting it so the others would continue to have power in the rest of the church. Desperate, Markus attempted to reach out to North, Simon, Josh, only to reel at an unexpected presence in the channel that attempted to take advantage of the connection by infiltrating his systems. Shutting down fire walls and closing the channel, a departure would hopefully draw some attention in itself, Markus aimed the pistol at the center of the form's torso.

If it could do these things, then at the very least, it wasn't a human. That didn't rule out another assassin, though.

Setting his jaw, Markus demanded, "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

And the form paused, cocking its head slightly in an oddly… deviant gesture. Then it charged soundlessly, bearing down on Markus with a speed that startled him into pulling the trigger.

Plastic shattered. The bullet took the side of the android's facial structure without slowing it down. It lunged across the desk, cold fingers wrapping around Markus' wrist, and in one swift movement… ripped out its own audio processor.

Instinctively, Markus reached out to stop it from hurting itself, stopping only when he saw-

A vibrant green optic. Artificial stubble spread evenly over a strong jaw.

Clothes identical to his own.

A series of clicking vocalizations issued from its mouth, and it smiled with his lips, his teeth, before grabbing its own thirium pump and yanking it out of place. A red blinking started up in its chest, alerting them that it was entering low power mode due to the damage it'd inflicted on itself.

Horrified, Markus attempted to tear his arm from its grip, his own stress levels approaching critical when his synthetic flesh peeled back from where the android's fingers squeezed into his panels without his consent.

Changing gears upon seeing that escape wasn't an option, he pressed the barrel of the gun to its arm at the elbow joint. "Let. Go."

The android's manic smile widened, stretching the skin. "No." And Markus fired, blasting its arm to pieces with a horrific crack.

 **Transfer Complete: 00:05**

The android barely seemed to notice the loss, and the process didn't stop. Markus swiveled, spotting the android's remaining hand, bare of its synthetic flesh, encircled around his other wrist. The gun fell from his fingers as his body lost control of external functions. He couldn't move. "North!" Terror colored the shout, as well as a flood of garbled static. His processes were being hindered by the transfer. Most of them were already - "Josh! Simon! I need-"

 **Transfer Complete: 00:00**

 _"...h..e..l..p."_

* * *

 **A/N: I spent some time without a computer and so often entertained myself with crack ideas, of which this came out as the 'hey, let's try actually writing that' winner. Still getting used to this new computer, so if you see a lot of typos or have any advice about my writing, please let me know.**

 **Anyway, thanks so much and I hope you enjoy it.**


	2. And They Came Running

The amount of mold spores and dust floating around the abandoned church's interior would have made for an uncomfortable, if not outright harmful, environment for any humans seeking shelter, which made it especially fortuitous that those seeking sanctuary within its walls had no need for clean air or ventilation. The main risk, Simon supposed, was accumulated sediment from the simulated act of breathing, but even if that were the case, most recent models could flush out impurities in their systems through an automated self-cleaning protocol. That left the older models, though their built-in filtration would likely buy them enough time, delaying the inevitable build-up until either they or Markus found someplace better suited for their needs.

Simon scratched his head, frustrated that there wasn't more he could do to help. He'd been the de-facto leader of Jericho, for crying out loud. Surely, there was more he could contribute to their cause than sitting idle and waiting.

The bench he'd chosen was softened by rot and a good distance from the stage. Simon had to crane his head to see the television Josh had managed to hook up to a small, antique generator, though that was vastly preferred to sitting too closely to the AX400 model and her charge. They were on-edge, always speaking in hushed tones and keeping close. Sometimes, when the YK500- young girl wasn't looking her way, a flash of sorrow would cross her caretaker's face.

Often, it was there and gone before the child could see. But sometimes not.

Sometimes, the child would take her by the hand, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears, and they would grieve together. It was all-together far too personal, too intimate for Simon to intrude. After catching a glimpse of their shared sorrow, he did his best to keep his gaze fixated on the news updates on the human evacuation of Detroit, digging his fingers into the grain of the sodden wood, pulling and plucking at the splinters.

 _What would Markus do_ , the thought came, unbidden, _if he were in his place?_

The right thing, probably.

A hand fell over his, covering it completely. Simon blinked, looking up to see Josh smiling warmly down at him, "Mind if I join you?" Without a word, Simon scooted to make space for him, though there was plenty already. "How've you been holding up?"

"Better now that there aren't any guns pointed at me."

Josh surprised Simon by making a choked noise that could have been a laugh. "I meant with the whole," he gestured vaguely, "North and Markus thing." Out of everyone at Jericho, he and Josh had known each other the longest. Between that, and the fact that Simon hadn't exactly subtle with his infatuation with the RK200, it really shouldn't have surprised him that Josh would put the pieces together. Teasing him with a particularly flirtatious, "I can't feel my legs, Markus," and fluttering his lashes, however, was completely uncalled for.

"Alright, you've made your point." Simon nudged him, scowling. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wishing more than anything that he could go into stasis for a couple weeks. But Josh was waiting and would keep being annoying until he got an answer. Staring determinedly ahead so he wouldn't have to see whatever expression Josh made in response, he said, "Honestly, there's nothing I want more than for my friends to be alive and happy. And if they make each other happy, then I'm not..." A tired sigh escaped. He shut his eyes. "I'm not going to ruin that."

Before Josh could reply, a high-pitched giggle echoed jarringly through the church. Knowing exactly where it emanated from, Simon allowed himself a small smile. When he looked up, it was to see Josh looking at him with a mix of concern and ill-concealed mirth in his eyes. "At least you still have me."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" It did.

Grinning, Josh jostled him. "You love me."

"I tolerate you. Wha- Josh!"

Simon's eyes went wide as Josh wrapped his arms around him, "Come over here." - "Absolutely not," and pulled him into a hold that enveloped Simon completely in his coat. After a particularly hard and irritating poke from a feather stem sticking out of the plush interior, Simon gracelessly shoved his friend off, ignoring the round of muted chuckles it instigated, and not just from Josh. Apparently, their antics had gotten the attention of other androids, which was acceptable, except they were the leaders of Jericho, not children horsing around in a playground.

Shortly after they'd settled down, Simon muttered almost on impulse,"You don't like Markus very much, do you?" Leave it to him to ruin a good atmosphere. Josh's laughter had long since died down, though a smile had lingered, and now even that was gone, replaced by an expression of astonishment that morphed quickly into thoughtfulness.

"It's not that I don't like him," replied Josh carefully, weighing his words with the knowledge that anything he said could be overheard. With that in mind, Simon realized this may not have been the best place or time to satiate his curiosity. It just baffled him how Josh and Markus could have such similar goals yet still manage to butt heads at every turn. Josh ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, a frustrated purse to his lips. "He never seems afraid to or even that reluctant to put his life on the line. It's unnerving, I guess." He shrugged, huffing a mirthless laugh. "And it makes me feel like… Like I'm a coward. For not wanting to die."

Simon fixed him with hard stare,"You're no coward, Josh. Not even close."

Taken aback, Josh was silent for a moment, before quietly murmuring, "Thanks." Though he ducked his head, there warmth in his tone was unmistakable.

Meanwhile, the remaining clusters of android refugees, though too wounded to leave or simply with nowhere to go, broke their silence, their murmurs rising and swelling. Frowning at the sudden commotion, Simon glanced at the television to see a report of a break-in at the mansion of artist Carl Manfred. He'd refused to heed the evacuation, stating that his family was in Detroit and he wasn't going to make the same mistake a second time. The channel showed a clip of the artist being wheeled out of the building in a stretcher, alongside a visibly damaged caretaker android, and followed by a gaggle of reporters clamoring to get a statement from his estranged son, a young man that a quick scan revealed to be suffering from lingering effects of Red Ice withdrawal.

"We just want-" One of the reporters started to say.

"I know what you want!" Leo Manfred snapped, and tugged agitatedly at his hair, the dark circles under his eyes stark against a greyish pallor. "I barely have my own brain together. What makes you think I have the slightest idea what's going on in his?" Curling his lips, he dismissed the reporters with a contemptuous, "Buzz off," then pushed past the bodies to talk to the paramedics. The screen faded to black.

It was well-known that a handful of human sympathizers had chosen to stay, enough that several police officers had voluntarily remained to keep an eye on them. The thought that these humans might have inadvertently put a target on their backs by doing so made the thirium in Simon's stomach turn uncomfortably. Attacking the humans now, especially when they were allied to their cause, went against everything Markus stood for.

Josh shook his head. "Souring public opinion like that does more to hurt our cause than anything, but I suppose that's one of the pitfalls of fighting for the right to free will. Not everyone's going to use it in ways we like."

At this point, Simon had only been half-listening, as Markus chose that moment to stride into the church. There was nothing off about him, per say, besides him offering only a curt greeting to the androids he passed on his way down the aisle. Usually, his features would brighten at the sight of them, and he would spare the time to talk to each and every one of their refugees, taking the time to ask after their wounds and offer any assistance he could. It was said that the best generals led the charge with the soldiers, and while Simon questioned how strategically sound such an arrangement might be, there was no question that Markus lived that mentality, as he was always in the frontlines during the protests and continued to put himself front and center during the aftermath.

Now, however, he appeared distant. Cold.

There were fragments of glass on his jacket. Thirium stains on his shirt.

"Is everything okay, Markus?" Simon called out, rising to his feet. Josh stood, as well, though his attention wasn't focused on Markus. An image had appeared on the television screen of the suspected intruder. Furrowing his brow, Josh clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He broke off from Simon to confront Markus, though he at least had the presence of mind to wait until they were out of hearing range from the other androids.

"Tell me you didn't do it," Josh blurted once they were standing outside Markus' office. Simon waited for some kind of confirmation or denial, some sign that Markus was even listening, but there was nothing. They might as well have been speaking to a statue.

Josh audibly gritted his teeth, the low groan stemming from the pressure on his jaw the only sound while Markus worked with the lock until the door swung open, and he silently stepped aside, a clear invitation for them to join him. It was a relief, actually, since Simon guessed that this meant that Markus didn't want whatever he had to say to be overheard, and Simon was so sure that there was good explanation for this. After all, forging peaceful relations between the androids and the humans had been one of his main goals since he'd fallen into Jericho.

The first thing Simon noticed upon entering was how incredibly dark it was. The windows were shuttered, sheltering the room in tar blackness, rendering the objects inside to denser shapes of shadow. There was something in the corner that Simon couldn't recall ever being occupied before, and a subtle crimson flash in the center of the room. Once his optics readjusted, Simon was able to make out the features of an android with identical features to Markus. He was clothed in a CyberLife uniform, similar to what Connor wore, and sitting limply in the chair behind the desk. Though his remaining optic was visible, if only a sliver, he didn't appear to be cognizant of their presence. Confused, Josh frowned at the android. "An RK200? I didn't know they'd made other models."

At the same time, Simon strode behind the desk to check on him. The red flashing and lack of reaction from the android concerned him. "Markus, his thirium regulator's malfunctioning. If we don't get him looked at soon, he might die."

Simon looked over his shoulder to see Markus staring at the RK200, which wouldn't have surprised him, if not for the smirk curling the corners of his mouth. "That's the idea."

"Simon?" Josh called urgently.

Anger rising in him on the RK200's behave, Simone demanded of Markus, "What has gotten into you?"

"Simon!" And Simon whirled on Josh, his core temperature rising, to see him crouching over North. He knelt down to try to get a reaction out of her, but she seemed to have been locked into some kind of forced stasis. He gathered her up in his arms, allowing her head to fall against his chest as he clutched her towards him protectively. He cast a dark look at Markus. "I don't think that's him."

* * *

".

.

w̮̯̱̟̬͎͉̳͚̃͌̍͑͛ḧ͔̜̟͚͖̠̮̪̔̔̓̒͜ḁ̢͇̱̑͒͊͘͟͠͠ͅt̵̛̜̩̲̠͎̬̗̞̱̫̀͋̆̐͋̆̏̕'̳̤̮̩̮̰̔͆̎̿̎̕͠s̰̹̗̣͍̒͋̒̀̽͛͊̿̀ ḧ̡̗͍̘̦̮̳̩̅̌͒͊̄͜ͅa̼͚͖̭̩͇͊͗̑͊̂͢p̷͉͇͍̥̫̙̝̗̽̿̇̌̾̇͑͗͢͡p͈̘̖͓̲̣̅̄̒̓̾̚e͈̠̞̮̞̓͋͋͑̒̃͆ñ̡͎̩̩̬̔̊̂̌̕î̻̰̞̘̬̖̰̹̃͒͌̚̕͟n̵̡̺̟̰̰̹̋̍͑̈g̵̨̛̜̤̬̜͊̿̽̆̔̉͑͢?̸̢̡̨̰̺͔͉̺͓͛̉͑̚͝ͅ

It felt like there were ants crawling beneath his synthetic skin, biting mercilessly and moving, shifting, creeping over motionless limbs. The RK200 had ensured that he wouldn't be able to shout for help by tampering with his vocal synthesizer and the destruction it had inflicted on itself rendered Markus unable to process his surroundings.

 **ERROR**

 **ERROR**

 **Biocomponents in need of replacement**

A red haze obscured his vision, staticky and crowded with error notifications. His remaining audio processor crackled with an endless stream of white noise that overwhelmed its processes.

 **Stress levels 79%**

 _Rain poured over him, soaking the ground. Cold. Moans and grunts attacked his senses from every direction. He moved on instinct, finding the correct parts where he could. He didn't even know why, but he was desperate to live, to escape this -_

 **Stress levels 85%**

He'd detected raised voices earlier, and could discern enough in his current state to recognize that it had been feminine and angry, which narrowed it down nicely, except North wouldn't have left him to the other android's mercy. She would have told someone, would have helped him. The silence scared him. He needed to know what the impostor had done to her, but could only make out vague shapes. Over time, however, it improved, enough that when Simon came within a foot of him, Markus was able to make out the color of his hair, and further, he could see a pair of forms in the corner, and a taller, broader figure standing in the center of the room.

There were at least three androids in the room who were seeing Markus, their leader, broken and defeated, completely at the mercy of CyberLife's creation. What would they think of him now? How could they possibly believe anything he said again if he couldn't even save himself?

"Who...are…? What… you... want?" That sounded like Josh. From what Markus could hear, he had to assume that Josh had figured out the RK200 wasn't him, but that only put him in more danger.

"Why...attack...Manfred…?" After hearing that coming from closer to him, from Simon, Markus felt the thirium in him, what remained of it, begin to overheat.

He didn't care.

* * *

"̧̜̠͌̊͛͊̎̊͛W̙͛͂̾̈̓͌̕͡h̴̨̠̰̥͖͔̾̄͂͑̏̚͟ͅã̮͔̇̎̈́̍̔͜ͅt̹̊̅̌̔̊̓̒̏̔͟.́͘.̶̲̘͙͚̖̘̃̾͋͟͟͝͝. d͈̉̅̊̇̈́̇́̓i̓͊̓̓͞d̙̫͂̓̃͊͂͝ ẙ̀̅o̷̢̦͓̰̩͆̌̈͠ů̢̢̘̪̥̈́͗̓̑̈́͋̕ d̋o t̵͕̭̙̭͂͂̾̋̎ͅo̐͌̚ C̨̣̭̩̮̍́͛̇̾̚͜ą͕̦̤̎̂̊̔͘ͅrl̓̌̄̐͊͘?̓

The android rose stiffly, its amputated limbs emitting sparks and dripping blue thirium. The gaping hole where his blue optic used to be exposed circuitry and wiring. Delicate components that never should have been made vulnerable to the elements.

Shocked by the rage contorting his features, Simon was momentarily frozen while the blue optic focused on the imposter to the exclusion of all else blazed with fury.

" _That's_ what you care about?" And the impostor laughed at him, a metal-edged cackle that chilled Simon to the core. "I've destroyed your reputation, Markus. You attacked an old man in his bed. There's no coming back from that. What did you think he was? A friend? A father?" A dry hiss poured out of Markus' malfunctioning vocal synthesizer. It didn't seem to phase the other android, except that the cruel glint in its gaze brightened, as though it were delighting in the misery it was causing. "He was your owner. Nothing more."

"W-what did you s-say to him?" In a flash, Markus snatched a stapler with his good arm and tossed it at the imposter, who dodged it without so much as turning his head. "W-what d-did you say while w-wearing... _my face?!_ "

A soft moan from the corner caught Simon's attention, momentarily distracting him. It seemed that North was coming out of her stasis. And what a time to do so.

"Only the truth. Humans and androids will never be able to live together in peace."

"That's not for us to decide," Markus shook his head. He leaned against the desk for support, using it to keep him upright as he edged closer to the other RK200. When he stood in front of him, hunched due to the diminishing thirium in his systems, Markus forced himself to straighten, and even then couldn't reach equal height. "Did you kill him?" Lashing out, Markus grabbed his copy by the collar. "DID. YOU. KILL. MY DAD?!"

A gleam of exposed polymer shone in the dark as the fake's synthetic skin peeled back from his fingertips. Simon shouted a warning, darting forward to intervene, but not in time to keep the impostor from gripping Markus around the wrist. Markus gaped at the contact, his LED blinking a steady red. His head jerked as if pulled to stare fearfully at the impassive wall of his own face. "Y-you… can't…"

"Do you know for sure, Markus?" The imposter questioned slowly, allowing Markus to read the shapes of his mouth. He smiled, then in a terrible perversion of the warm and understanding tone that Markus tended to favor, asked, "Are you certain? Anything that can be done can be undone." Though Markus struggled, his knees gave out. Taking his injuries into account, it was a miracle his body hadn't forced him into stasis, already. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Josh setting a disoriented North down. Could the both of them take out an RK200? More importantly, could they do it without hurting Markus? That was still his body. Without it, he'd be trapped in a defective model that was liable to shut down at any moment. "And besides," none of that seemed to matter, though, when Markus flinched from the impostor, "I don't think you're truly sure of anything at the moment." Josh positioned himself to catch the impostor around the legs. Simon decided he would aim for the neck. "Can a deviant be remade into a machine?" The impostor said directly into Markus' remaining audio processor, ensuring that he heard and understood every word as he started to shake. "Finding out would be beneficial to Cyber-"

The door flew open. A gunshot rang out.

The impostor froze, a dribble of blue thirium spilling from the gaping hole in its head.

After ripping his arm away from the RK200's grip, Markus turned towards the doorway, "...K-kara?"

"Markus," she replied with audible relief. Then glanced around the room and shrugged, "You didn't say hi." A look of confusion flitted over Markus' face. Understandable, since not even Simon could say for sure if she was joking. Josh made a noise that could have been a laugh, but probably wasn't, as he helped an unsteady North to her feet.

Simon frowned. The bullet had gone through and through, but had destroyed the RK200's processor. There was no way to initiate a transfer. Nowhere for Markus to go.

"Markus?" There was an uncertainty in North's voice that made Markus flinch before he could stop it. She seemed to notice her mistake because she tried again, steadier this time. "Markus. I know it wasn't you."

Glitchy and mechanical, Markus rasped over his shoulder, keeping his distance when she tried to approach, "I'm s-so sorry." His LED flash red once more before his limbs ceased functioning, and he toppled, crumpling in on himself.

He would have fallen, except North was there cushioning his fall, a look of horror blooming over her features due to the lightness of his form. She quickly composed herself. "Hey, you're okay. You're going to be okay, Markus." A convulsion wracked his body, and she held him tightly, trying to ground him. Simon crossed the floor, cursing himself for allowing this to happen, then with a grimace, dug the blue optic out of the impostor's socket.

"Give that to him. Clearing up his vision should help lower his stress levels." Once the optic was inserted, Kara left to retrieve ice packs and thirium pouches from the freezer, and Josh went with her in case one of the other androids thought something was amiss. Meanwhile, Simon felt for the audio processor inserted into the RK200's neck, behind the ear, and extracted that, as well. He gritted his teeth, telling himself it wasn't Markus.

He threw it to North,"What about his thirium regulator?"

She pushed the audio processor inside, breathing out a sigh of relief when it was accepted, as almost immediately the tremors began to subside. Her palm passed over his chest to locate the source of the blinking crimson light. "It's not damaged," she said after a moment. "It's only been shifted." Her fingers curled into the synthetic flesh, gripping the thirium regulator, and gave it a twist. There was a click. Markus went rigid. Then gradually relaxed.

It helped that he wasn't conscious.

When Kara returned, she placed the ice packs over his thirium pump, the main biocomponent with a tendency to overheat, before setting another on his head and two more on his torso. Joss found a blanket which they used to cover the deactivated RK200 so Markus wouldn't have to see how Simon had cannibalized its parts to help him. Though they had technically belonged to Markus to start with, there was no reason to subject him to the sight. Something would have to done about its remains, eventually. Just not now. It could wait until Markus was stable.

Which left only the issue of his LED.

It was a dead giveaway that something had happened, as everyone in Jericho knew that the revolutionary leader didn't have one, but prying it off when he wasn't awake to consent to the act felt wrong, somehow. They decided against it.

North pulled off her maroon cap. She paused, pressed her lips against the blinking yellow circlet on his temple, then tugged the cap over it. "See, Markus?" She whispered, a lock of her red hair falling forward to brush his cheek as a thumb wiped away a tear. "Everything's going to be okay. We're here. You're safe now." Josh sat beside her, as did Simon, while Kara stood beside the door, peering outside to keep an eye on her charge and to make sure no one approached without their knowledge. "You don't have to be afraid."

And beneath the dark fabric, visible through the threads, a vibrant yellow shifted gradually to a calm, peaceful blue.


End file.
